


a killer of a different kind

by muse_appollo



Category: Hannibal (TV), Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Crossover, F/F, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, domestic murder husbands, somewhere around 2.06 for killing eve, this is pure plotless self-indulgence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 11:06:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18915697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muse_appollo/pseuds/muse_appollo
Summary: a series of meetings between our resident murder husbands and our up-and-coming murder wives





	a killer of a different kind

In a bar in Vienna, Will Graham sits alone, absently tapping his wedding ring against the side of his glass. He comes here most days after work for a drink; it’s nice to have an established sense of routine, his life has been a bit hectic these past few years. Legally, he’s been dead for four years, married for three, living in Austria for two. He’s not as nervous about going in public as he used to be, gets the odd glance now and again, people thrown off by his scarred face, but recognition isn’t so high on his list of fears any more, most of the world has moved onto other news these days.

Which is why he doesn’t pay much mind to the young woman who plops down in the seat beside him, except to glance sideways at her, curious as to why she chose to sit so close.

He isn’t even surprised when she speaks to him, but finds himself taken aback by her lack of introduction. The first thing she says to him is more than a little invasive. “What happened to your face?” She has a Russian accent, which puts her as out of place as he is.

Will meets her eyes with a furrowed brow. There’s no pity in her gaze, morbid curiosity at best, maybe even a hit of amusement. She’s young and pretty, an elegant blonde thing with a round face and wide, brown eyes, the kind of eyes that don’t seem to miss a thing.

“That’s a bit of a personal question.” Will responds shortly. “Some people might consider it rude, actually.”

“Not you?” She raises an eyebrow. 

“No, not me.” He pauses, sipping his whiskey slowly. “It’s not that interesting of a story, I promise.” She’s still watching expectantly. “I was in a car accident a few years back.”

“Ah.” She seems disappointed. “Well, at least it looks badass.” 

“Yeah.” Will chuckles. “I suppose it does.”

“What about that one?” Will narrowly avoids being poked in the forehead by one neatly manicured finger. “It looks like someone tried to take the top off your head!”

“Well, he really wanted to know what was on my mind, I guess.” Will chuckles at his own private joke.

The woman laughs as well, it’s a loud, manic thing. “You are funny.” A short pause as she watches him, something curious and intense in her gaze. “I know your face.”

Dread pools in the pit of Will’s stomach. “I’m sorry?”

“You are familiar, like I have seen you somewhere before.” It’s not a question, and the intensity of her gaze makes him nervous.

“I doubt it.” He shrugs. “I have one of those faces, and I don’t know if you could tell by the accent, but I’m really not from around here.”

“Hm.” She shrugs. “You are American?”

“Yes.” 

“Why are you in Vienna?” Will really doesn’t like the way this conversation is going. 

“Needed a change of pace.” He finishes his drink in once smooth swallow. “Well, this has been lovely, but it’s time for me to turn in for the night.” 

Her eyes drop to the ring on his finger. “Gotta get back to the missus?”

Will can’t help the smile that crept up on his face. “He’s a mister actually.” He shrugs on his coat, leaving money on the bar to cover his drinks. “You have a good night.”

He tries to calm his anxiety as he leaves the bar, pushing the strange young woman to the back of his mind.

 

*****

 

Hannibal greets him with a kiss when he returns home, and Will sinks into it for a moment before pulling back, his brows still knitted in a tight frown. 

“Something wrong?” Hannibal steps around the back of him, taking his coat for him. It was a habit of his, something which had taken some getting used to for Will. 

“I think we might have a problem.”

 

*****

 

Villanelle was bored. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence of course, boredom was a permanent affliction for which she had yet to find anything but a temporary cure. Brief moments of entertainment were all she had really.

The man at the bar had caught her interest, though the story behind his scars had not been nearly as exciting as she’d hoped. Her certainty that he was lying did make him more interesting though.  

Still she could swear she recognized his face from somewhere. 

It was only a cursory google search before she found what she was looking for. The article was old, close to five years, but the picture was certainly the man she had seen at the bar the night before. A smile spread across her face as she realized just who she had met… perhaps he wasn’t so boring after all. 

 

******

 

“I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.” Hannibal says later, when Will had told him about the earlier events of his evening. “It seems a strange encounter yes, but not concerning outright.”

“No, I guess not.” Will shakes his head. “There was something very strange about her though, she looked too clever for her own good.”

Hannibal just smiles at him, a warm, affectionate thing. “You worry too much.” He cupped Will’s face in his hands, pressing a gentle kiss to the scar on his forehead. “Everything will be fine. Now come, dinner’s almost ready. I need you to set the table.”

Will nods, pushing thoughts of the strange woman to the back of his mind. He kisses Hannibal once, short and sweet before walking through walking to the kitchen. 

 

*******

 

Two days later Will wakes to find Hannibal in a sour mood. He’s reading something on his tablet, a deep frown on his face, and Will rolls over to look at him, sitting up and running a hand through his hair before he spoke.

“Oh dear.” He raises an eyebrow. “What’s happened now?”

“Jonas Pichler has been found dead.” He glances sideways at his husband. “Murdered.”

“And it wasn’t by you?” Will can’t help but tease him. Pichler was a co-worker of Hannibal’s at the museum where he worked, he was particularly obnoxious, and despite this, Hannibal had invited him to dinner more than once. Will was sure the man would have found himself  _ becoming _ dinner, if Hannibal could find a way to kill him without arousing suspicion. 

“I did promise you not to kill anyone I could be directly tied to, did I not?” Hannibal retorts with a raised eyebrow.

“You did, and you’ve kept your promise, which I know has been very hard for you.” Hannibal just glares at him. Will sighs. “How did he die?”

“His killer saw fit to give his death something he never had in life.”

Will takes the bait, knowing Hannibal will be displeased if he doesn't get to follow through on his joke. “What’s that?”

“Wit.” He smiles, pleased with his own joke. “He was killed with his own monogrammed pen, it was used to pierce his femoral artery.” 

Will nods at that. “Pen’s a little out there, but certainly not the strangest thing I’ve seen.”

“Or done.”

“Or done, yes.” 

“What bothers me, is that it doesn’t seem like a crime of passion. It seems calculated, cleanly executed.”

Now Will understands the frown his husband wore a little better. “So you’re not  _ just _ jealous you couldn’t get to him first. You’re curious about his killer.” A sly little grin. “Someone new in town, perhaps.”

Hannibal purses his lips, the way he often did when he was deep in thought. “Perhaps.”

 

******

 

Eve was certain Villanelle was involved in this. It had her flare written all over it. She was… well,  _ excited _ wasn’t really the right word, but then again, neither was nervous. She had had no contact with Villanelle since Paris, an event which sat prominent in the back of her mind. 

The crime scene gave away as little as she had expected it would. Villanelle wasn’t sloppy, of course she wasn’t. Still Eve had hoped for some clue, thought back to the apple in the hand of the boy Villanelle had killed in the hospital. 

Later she checks locations nearby, bars, clubs, high-end restaurants. All the places she imagined Villanelle frequenting in her spare time, showing Villanelle’s picture to anyone she thinks may have seen her in hope of some clue. 

It was a pleasant surprise when a bartender at a small, but classy establishment said he’d seen her. 

“Is there anything you can remember about her, anything at all of note?”

“Sorry, no.” The man shakes his head. “She hadn’t been in here before, and not since. She was a bit… rowdy for a place like this.”

“Did she talk to anyone? Meet anyone?”

He pauses to think, his brow furrowing briefly. “She had a brief conversation with another customer. A regular here, but he left shortly after she arrived.” 

Eve feels something in her perk up at that. “You wouldn’t happen to have his information, would you?”

 

******

 

Will has never been the kind of person to appreciate uninvited guests, a feeling which had been further exacerbated by his years of involvement with serial killers and the time he’d spent on the run. So when his doorbell rings unexpectedly at 1:30 in the afternoon, it’s pure instinct that he tucks his gun into his belt before going to answer it. 

His concern is in no way lessened by the fact that he doesn’t recognise the woman on the other side of the door. Around him, the dogs are barking and sniffing at the door, and he shushes them, shooing them away before he opens it.

“John Madsen?” It’s the name he’s been using for the past two years.

“That’s me. How can I help you?” He doesn’t open the door all the way, using the guise of the dogs trying to slip out as a reason not to let the woman see into his house. 

“Hi, I’m special agent Eve Polastri, MI6.” Will’s stomach drops a bit at that, but he doesn’t let it show on his face. “I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”

“MI6, huh?” Will squints at the ID she shows him. “Didn’t know you guys had jurisdiction over here…” 

“You’d be surprised.” She has a harried look about her, tired, stressed, her hair tugged back from her face in a tight bun. Will can’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for her, knowing how it feels to be in her position. One of the dogs pushes insistently at his back end, and Will opts to step outside, shutting the door behind him. 

“What’s this about?” He laughs. “I can’t see why you guys would take much interest in me.”

The agent pulls her gaze away from the several curious furry faces now watching them from the front window. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a photograph. “I was told by the bartender at Da Vinci's that he saw you talking to this woman, I just wondered if you could remember anything of note about the conversation?”

Will took the photo from her. The woman shown in it looked different, certainly, younger, with dark hair, and far scruffier than the woman Will recalled meeting in the bar. But it was her nonetheless. “Yeah…” he says slowly. “Yeah, I recognize her. She looked a lot different than she does here but…”

“Great!” Her enthusiasm surprises him a little bit, and she seems to notice a moment later, steeling herself. “That’s good news, um, do you remember anything odd about her, anything about the conversation that could have helped pinpoint where she went next?”

Will shakes his head. “Odd’s a word for it. But no, she didn’t talk about herself much, just sat down next to me and started asking me questions. Wanted to know about…” he gestures vaguely to the scar on the right side of his face. 

The agent nods, looking a bit strained as she scrunches her face into an expression of sympathy. She seems disappointed by his lack of helpful information. 

“She seemed disappointed when I told her it was nothing more exciting than a car wreck.” He crosses his arms. “Can I ask what this is about?”

“She’s a person of interest.” The agent replies. “I’m afraid that’s all I can say at this time.” 

Will nods at that. “Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.” 

“That’s alright.” She nods, digs in her pocket and hands him a card. “Please call if you think of anything else.”

“I will.” He watches her go for a long moment before he steps back into his house. He shushes the dogs once again, scratching each set of ears that comes into his reach as he tucks the card into his breast pocket. You had to be careful with business cards in this house, lest they find their way into the kitchen. 

After he sits down on the couch, his brow furrowing deeply as he considered what he would tell Hannibal about his encounter. 

 

*****

 

Hannibal was in the process of preparing dinner when Will asked him a startling question.

"Hey, are we wanted by MI6?"

Hannibal glanced at him over one shoulder, curious. "Not to my knowledge. Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

Hannibal hums, stepping away from his cooking to approach Will, he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. "Counting are we?"

"It's good to know." Will retorts.

"I suppose it is." A pause. "You're sure that's all?"

"Yeah." Will pulls him into another kiss. "Careful, you don't want to burn your sauce." His tone is teasing, and Hannibal narrowly avoids rolling his eyes before going back to his cooking. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what i'm doing and am extremely open to suggestions
> 
> tumblr: https://b0ttom-hannibal.tumblr.com/  
> feel free to shoot me a message! I'm always down to make friends, and I'm willing to take requests if you're into that sort of thing....


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